


My Chemical of Choice

by bbcsherlockian



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Drugs, M/M, POV Sherlock Holmes, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-26
Updated: 2013-12-26
Packaged: 2018-01-06 06:04:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1103282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bbcsherlockian/pseuds/bbcsherlockian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A toxin. A poison. A drug.</p><p>Sherlock Holmes describes his relationship to John Watson using the only analogy he is primarily familiar with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Chemical of Choice

I’ve told you so, so many times that a life with me is dangerous and almost certainly has a low life expectancy, and yet you keep coming back. I’m not really entitled to be at all surprised; it’s still entirely liberating when you choose to return to me. No one ever has before. Yes, you loathe your absence from the war and yes, one could argue you are somewhat reliant on danger, but I think we both know there’s more to it than that.

A toxin: A poisonous substance that is capable of causing disease when introduced into the body tissues but is often also capable of inducing neutralizing antibodies or antitoxins. A poison: A substance that causes injury, illness, or death, is destructive or fatal and nearly always a catalyst. A drug: A substance used in the diagnosis, treatment, or prevention of a disease or as a component of a medication or a chemical substance that causes changes in behavior and often addiction.

As your tolerance levels increase, so does your need, and although I know I am sending you towards your impending, inevitable, premature demise, I can’t stop myself. I can’t stop craving you to crave me. For the first time in my short and tedious existence, I have found someone who requires me as much as they require oxygen and that -- _that_ is a rush, a high that I am yet to find elsewhere. You are my chemical of choice, but only because I am yours.

This mutualistic and dependant relationship is destructive, catastrophic; the aftermath will be shockingly unpleasant and yet I know that as we will both stand in the rubble and debris, we will both know that it was completely worth it. We will be the death of each other, and with that I am content.

I realise it’s wrong, arguably manipulative, even. I am selfish as I drain every inch of your being; I don’t relish in the knowledge that I am destroying you, tainting you, but I relish in your presence nevertheless. I relish in feeling wanted and-- no, I relish in feeling wanted by you. I have never wanted to impress another person more, to render them numb and speechless under my viciously intelligent mouth, and the fact that I succeeded in drawing you in, captivating you to the point of no return; it frees me.

You love me, I know this. Your body and movements scream to me what your tongue refuses to, and although I have little firsthand experience of such relationships, I am certain that, to an extent, the sentiment is mutual. We are clinging to one another in the midsts of a turbulent and merciless storm to anchor ourselves, and if just one of us lets go we will both be tossed like rags into the infinite winds and solitude of these morbid elements. It’s unhealthy to the point where it frightens me, but we are both aware of this and we are both clinging on tight enough to bruise. Remember; we cannot maintain our grip forever.

I am your toxin, your poison, your drug; as long as you stay with me, _need_ me, I will be satisfied. Right until both of our bitter ends.

**Author's Note:**

> (psssst, I stole the definitions from http://dictionary.reference.com/)


End file.
